31 things I haven't learned in 31 years

My 31st birthday was a few days ago.

I thought about doing some sort of cheesy 31 Lessons I’ve Learned in 31 Years, but honestly, a more accurate piece might be 31 Things I’m Still Unsure About After 31 Years (spoiler: the title is a lie - I will not, in fact, be listing 31 things 🫠).

In fact, the older I get, the more I realize there is less and less that I’m certain of. I always assumed aging would work the opposite way - that I’d become more sure of myself, more anchored in “truth,” more confident in rattling off lessons to the younger generation. I thought I’d be a whole lot wiser by now, with many more things figured out.

I assure you, my 18-year-old self had far more confidence and was way more sure of herself than the 31-year-old version of me will ever be.

I’m honestly shook at some of the things I did before my frontal lobe developed - and shockingly enough, they actually aren’t things I regret.

If anything, I admire that completely naive and slightly idiotic version of myself. She operated fearlessly - albeit a bit recklessly. She didn’t obsess over consequences or perception or how a single sentence might be misinterpreted by strangers on the internet (don’t worry - she would learn that soon enough).

She was a bit delusional in the best way possible. She understood “no” as a dare, and her favorite quote (which she had printed on a custom pillow) was “the greatest pleasure in life is doing what others say you cannot do” ~anonymous.

I always thought I would gain wisdom with age. But instead, I think I’ve just gained about twenty pounds of fear - fear of saying the wrong thing, fear of being perceived in a certain way, fear that every choice comes with invisible landmines.

Sure, I’ve learned some lessons. Some the hard way. But the main thing I’ve learned is this: there will always be infinitely more questions than answers. And the older I get, the more I realize how very little I actually know.

Most days, I wake up and realize I have no clue what the f*ck I’m even doing.

I still ponder the same existential questions about the meaninglessness and absurdity of life. What is even the point? Why are we all still running around in circles trying to prove something, be something, do something, feel something?

We spend our lives waiting - for what?

For success? For fame? For money? For love? For acceptance? For answers? For discovering “The Truth” about reality?

Clearly it does not help that I just saw Waiting for Godot on Broadway last week 😂

In a world full of people selling a cure, a fix, a solution… I often feel like I can’t keep up, because I truly have no solution to sell.

No fixes. No answers. No certainty.

Only questions.

Because, truth be told, I have no fucking clue how to have a six-figure month. How to lose 20 pounds overnight. How to have the perfect marriage. How to have a vibrant friend group. How to solve your conflicts overnight. How to cook the perfect pot roast.

I’ve realized that “truth” is not sensational. It doesn’t get the clicks, views, or hype. It’s a quiet constant - not a trend.

Certainty is sexy. It soothes, it sells.
But uncertainty? Doubt? Not very marketable.

And let’s be real - we’re inundated with trends.
Trends that are being packaged, sold, and preached as truth.

But perhaps there is more truth in a question than there will ever be in any one answer.
The art is in asking good ones, peeling back layer after layer of awareness.

When I first started university, I was in the University Fellows Program, where we were taught through a Socratic-seminar method. It was frustrating at times, because our professors would respond to our questions not with answers, but with more questions.

Despite this, I spent years chasing answers. Certainty. Truth.

I preached the doctrine of holistic wellness, and that eventually crumbled. Every effort I made to latch onto something true - something certain - left me wildly disappointed.

I suppose what I’ve learned, more than anything, is that perhaps there is no objective truth.
What if everything is modulated by belief?
What if truth is subjective?
What if real TRUTH is something we simply don’t have the capacity to grasp?

Or maybe it’s better that we can’t grasp it… because then what would be the point of living?

As you can tell, I’m far more comfortable existing in a delicious realm of perpetual questions than I am clinging to so-called “facts.”

I think Socrates was pretty spot-on when he said (in Plato’s Apology), “I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing.”

Maybe the whole point of this relentless pursuit of answers - of truth - is what keeps us going. What would we do without the continual striving toward… something?

I saw a note here on Substack yesterday that said it would be great if we could all just stop wanting - wanting to take the next step in our relationship, career, life. Stop wanting more. But, isn’t that kind of the point?

I often think that perhaps our concept of “heaven” (contentment, having all the answers, certainty, peace, bliss, “arrival,” etc) would actually be more like… hell?

What is life without the striving, the “journey” (sorry, ew), the continual pursuit of becoming? Of unbecoming? Of all of it?

If I could magically wave a wand and have everything I ever wanted - all the certainty, peace, success - would that not become the cruelest prison?

If I could gorge myself on the answers to all of my deepest burning questions about life and the nature of reality, would I not ruin the very appetite that is the essence of living?

Perhaps the whole point of living is to relish the perpetual questions of existence - not to figure everything out.

Maybe it’s about easing into the delicious realm of uncertainty.

I’ve actually been thinking quite a bit about absurdism recently.

It’s not lost on me that many people find it dark or depressing.

But, personally, I’m mesmerized by it.

To find joy in the absurdity of life - in the realization that there is no meaning to uncover? No elusive purpose to find?

What a gift. What strange, delicious freedom.

Maybe the essence of living is found in our ability to delight in the questions and let go of a need for an answer. Continual uncertainty.

Because if certainty is death, then perhaps wonder is how we stay alive.

Stay curious,

Abigail